


our fingers dancing when they meet

by ralphstatortots



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: M/M, Size Difference, fraser notices things about james thats larger than himself and thinks its cool, uh....yeah? thats kind of it lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 18:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20625806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralphstatortots/pseuds/ralphstatortots
Summary: It’s the first time he’s felt completely smaller compared to another person when he notices it all, and Fraser thinks he likes that a bit too much.





	our fingers dancing when they meet

**Author's Note:**

> thank u to a very good man for talking about this with me ages ago and then reminding me what we spoke about like a month later bc i didn't write it down apparently
> 
> this also has no dialogue somehow……..what happened
> 
> title by this side of paradise by coyote theory

It shouldn't be as daunting as it feels to Fraser. Nothing's _scary_ about it, not at all, but there's a twinge of something he can only describe as fear that swims inside him when he notices – _really_ notices. There’s no other feeling he can relate it to, except mild fear.

It’s obvious that between him and James, they’re quite tall. Intimidating when stood next to one another, as some people have told him, whether it be at meet and greets or just simply friends who have noticed before himself. They’re both tall, both well enough above the six foot marker, and _God_, does it do something to Fraser when he realises it.

It shouldn’t affect him like it does. Fraser promises he _won’t_ let it affect him, feeling taboo and forbidden to ever think of James in such a way.

But it does get to him, darkens his thoughts and feelings and actions until they’re unfamiliar even to himself. Fraser finds himself aware of how James stands a head above him, how his shoulders don’t quite reach James’ when they’re put next to each other, how he has to tilt his head upwards to look the other man in the eye. It’s all too much sometimes, and putting some distance between them as subtly as he can has proved the best way to calm his nerves.

It’s fear, Fraser tells himself, that follows him for hours after every encounter like that.

It’s fear, Fraser insists on believing, even though his chest goes light and his shoulders tense up so much that it aches.

It’s fear, Fraser tries to live the lie, that has him noticing their height difference no matter how small it is.

It’s not fear, Fraser gives into admitting, when James’ hand comes up to his jaw to tilt it upwards himself, eyes wandering from Fraser’s eyes, his nose briefly when that gets too daunting, his lips when the temptation gets too much. Fraser knows he’s guilty of it too, he realises, when James’ tilts his chin up more and leans down so their lips meet.

It was never fear, only a feeling close to it. Fraser understands now that it was the beginning signs of arousal forming inside him, affected and manipulated from the first realisation of the difference in height between them.

It’s arousal, he knows now, that drips from his pores like thick syrup that is far too sweet and rots his insides, and Fraser knows that James holds the sole responsibility for that. Every touch that progresses from kisses, every graze of his fingers against James feels sticky, sweet, hesitant. But he can’t get enough.

Hands are next.

It’s really not difficult to notice James’ hands once they’re on him properly, not just friendly pats on the shoulder or an arm around him for a few seconds too long. Only when they’re _touching_ Fraser, exploring and mapping and marking wherever they can does he notice how much larger than his.

It’s also when he finds out how small his own hands really are – when they’re pressed up against James’ and the tops of his fingers barely reach the joint of the other man’s fingertips. His own fingers are short and slightly thick, his palm rounded and compact. When they’re compared against James, it’s as if the man’s hands could envelop his twice, tangling their fingers together and causing a gasp to bubble up in Fraser’s throat that never breaks free when his mouth is enveloped too.

Hands leave Fraser pushing up into them to feel more, more, _more_ of whatever heat is sinking into him from them. Maybe they have a fire lit inside them, burning their way through his flesh until they reach his veins, maybe his lungs, maybe his heart. Maybe James’ hands aren’t burning at all, and it’s Fraser who’s the one that’s been lit up, his skin cracking open like steaming firewood and heating the fire inside him more and allowing James to dig through the heated ash.

Or maybe it’s nothing at all. Maybe he’s not burning, James isn’t burning, and maybe it’s just the harsh effects of being so helplessly aroused from something as simple as the size difference between their hands.

Fraser isn’t sure what comes next. They’re all small things, not literally, that come all at once when his eyes search for them.

The size of _James’_ hoodies surrounding him, when he’s given the privilege, while he’s in _James’_ bed, staring at the sight of _James’_ shoes bigger than his own haphazardly kicked off by the door, pressed up against _James’_ side and feeling so small himself when usually he’s the one feeling too large and out of place.

That doesn’t incite much than a strange warmth to have all these things come to mind when Fraser really pays attention.

It’s only when he’s openly gasping against James’ mouth, straddling his thigh and shoving his hand down the man’s already undone jeans does he realise just how big James is _everywhere_.

James tells him he’s average before they did anything like this; they’ve only gotten off with grinding against each other practically fully-clothed except the odd time James coaxes their tops off, never daring to go further until the other says.

It’s a little foolish to not have said anything, Fraser knows that now, especially when he doesn’t think he could go without feeling how thick James is in his hand any opportunity he can get now.

When James nudges his hand away, simply to pull his jeans down to his thighs, Fraser has to rest his head against the other man’s temple as a heavy sigh escapes him, and thinks he could quite happily die right then after seeing James like this.

He’s never had a good judgment on the size of anything before relying just on sight, but if he had to guess, James is definitely above any average number that the country has now – perhaps a heavy seven or eight inches. He’s thick, making it that bit harder to fully meet his own curling fingers when Fraser musters up the courage to bring his hand to his cock again now that it’s visible, and the veins that litter the length are prominent and bold against his thumb.

Fraser tells the other man in the form of a mumble just how huge he seems, how he’s scared that he might tear himself in two trying to take put that inside him _anywhere_, and an amused laugh washes over his cheek.

James’ hand, large and warm, comes down to his wrist, comforting words of how to go slow and that Fraser doesn’t have to do this if he doesn’t want to following the slow upstrokes James is guiding him with.

Maybe it’s just James himself, Fraser ponders while he’s stroking the man’s cock and watching through lidded eyes how pre-cum spills messily down his knuckles. Instead of these things about James – his height, his hands, his clothes and bed and shoes and cock – maybe it’s just everything about him that has Fraser’s thighs clenching and breath coming out short.

It’s a possibility, one that Fraser decides is very likely when the other man groans his name headily into his cheek while kisses are pressed into his skin. But the former realisations still stand, large and proud in the forefront of his mind. Maybe it’s both.

Both seems about right. Fraser could learn to love both, and it’s not as if he doesn’t already. He loves how James stands taller than him and how easily he can be moved around in the sheets of the bed by large hands and opened up by the same for a cock that still feels too thick for him to get used to. But he also loves _James_, just him. Everything else is who James is, and Fraser has no problems with it, even if he does have to adjust the shower-head’s height after James has been in there, or stand on his tiptoes when the man refuses to lean down to kiss him.

It’s the first time he’s felt completely smaller compared to another person when he notices it all, and Fraser thinks he likes that a bit too much.


End file.
